


One Girl, Two Guys, and a Hot Tub

by gala_apples



Series: The Joneses Get Down [4]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, F/M, Hair-pulling, Hot Tub Sex, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 06:42:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17893472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: In a universe where a freshly arrived to Austin Michael didn’t immediately leave Jack's, things turn out a lot different.





	One Girl, Two Guys, and a Hot Tub

**Author's Note:**

> Warning, pool sex is actually not great for vaginal health.
> 
> Written for seasonofkink, prompt 'exhibitionism'.

Lindsay knows the difference between a lush and a drunk. She’s not scared to be the latter, she knows great people who’ve worked through drinking too much, drinking until it’s a necessity, not something fun. She’s, however, lucky enough to be the former, and lucky enough that both her boyfriends are the same. And that’s why she’s blitzed on wine on a Tuesday morning, just a few hours before flying back to Austin. That’s the difference: drinking in any situation because you have to, and drinking in outrageous situations because you’re decadent. 

They didn’t exactly plan to get smashed in the middle of the morning. Hell, last night Lindsay would have bet against it. Conventions are great, but exhausting. This one -the latest in a dozen this year so far- finished late afternoon Monday, but there was a concert Jack wanted to attend, a band he’s in love with, so they postponed their flight. They all had more than a few beers during the shitty opener, enough that even if they weren’t a few states away from home, an Uber still would have been necessary. They certainly had enough to drink for Jack’s promise to come into play. Before they left Austin, Jack vowed to make her come publicly five times before they got home. Public sex is a kink that works for all three of them. Works well. Big surprise, professional YouTube semi-celebrities having a kink for exhibitionism. Last night at the concert was number four. Most people would be surprised at what kind of body movement can be concealed in a mosh pit. Not Lindsay. She is well acquainted. Jack’s a music buff, after all.

Their saving grace was chugging enough water to not wake up with a hangover. That said, the morning breath was particularly foul. Somehow wine became the answer to that problem, not mint toothpaste. Blame not being able to take open bottles in a carry on, if something must be blamed. They’re all too seasoned of travellers to bother with checked bags unless absolutely necessary, and a four day con does not fall into that category.

Once they’re tipsy on the leftover wine going downstairs to the pool seems like a great idea. Swimmy bevs won’t be quite the same without Gavin, Michael’s boi who’s is over so often he’s almost a fourth in the relationship. Would be outright, if he showed any inkling of bisexuality. At least a secondary for Michael, if not the rest of them. Damn his steadfast heterosexuality. But Gavin didn’t get assigned to this con, so they’ll make do, just three lushes in a pool. 

Unfortunately, best laid plans are often destroyed by awful things. In this case, it’s two stupid ass teenagers. Young teenagers, maybe thirteen, fourteen. The worst of all ages. They’re having some kind of cannonball competition, and Lindsay doesn’t feel like getting her hair wet and dealing with it during the race to drunkenly pack and get to the airport. It’s not long until they switch to the relative privacy of the hot tub. It’s decently large, and is only holding one other couple. Jack and Michael sit on the provided sunken benches circling the side and Lindsay floats facing them, letting the bubbling water make her drift until she has to recentre herself. She’s just drunk enough that it feels heavenly.

She’s not expecting the hot tub jets to make her horny, but let’s just say she’s not surprised when it happens. Wine is a hell of a drug, the most likely liquor to get her pants off. Not that that’s needed now. Which is part of the issue. Lycra is a very thin material. The closer Lindsay floats to a jet, the more she can feel the underwater pressure. It makes her skin tingle. She’s neck deep in water that’s bubbling so hard there’s a foam, who’s going to notice if she reaches down and adjusts the crotch of her bathing suit once? Or twice. Or ten times.

Jack. Jack, of course it’s Jack. 

“Ohh,” he says suddenly. “Number five. I thought I was going to have to wait for the airport.”

Her arm nudged something, on the last movement. It must have been Jack’s leg. Still, the logic leap from skin contact to masturbation is impressive. He really knows her.

Michael sits up a little more, attentive like nothing else can make him. Michael tends more voyeur, Jack more instigator, not that they haven’t all played all roles. It’s a good kink. Lindsay drifts a little closer to Jack. Without moving his shoulder, neck, or head, anything above water, he manages to reach forward and cup her mound. His hand is entirely outside of her swimsuit, but just the pressure of a beefy palm is enough to make her goosebump. Weird, considering she’s submerged in hot water. Jack begins to stroke her soft pussy outside the lycra of her swimsuit. It feels intense, her labia responding to the sensation of those touches and the hot water encompassing her. The entire hot tub feels like sex now, like some nineteen seventies acid dream where concepts take physical form.

Jack’s still petting her when the hot tub couple’s phone alarm goes off and they pull themselves out of the sunken tub. Lindsay watches the gorgeous slim blonde in a yellow two piece walk to pick up her nearby towel, belly chain charm swaying, and wants to kiss her. Wants to beg them not to go, to stay and watch, even participate a little. Luckily there’s a part of her that hasn’t been corrupted by the office that can still remember the difference between appropriate and not behaviour. She lets the goddess and the Matt Bomer type go without a word, and smolders under the look Michael is giving her. She knows he knows what she wanted. 

When the intensity between her and Michael boils over, there’s only one thing to do. Lindsay leans forward and grabs his cock. A few over the shorts strokes and she’s moving on to pushing her hand past his hemline. It’s not the best angle in the world, but it gets her fingers on his bellend, as Gavin would say. Besides, with this kink it’s not always about the actual contact.

She wonders if the people in the pool will notice a kiss, or if that’s too inconspicuous. Dating Jack and Michael she’s had to make a lot of that kind of judgment call. Entertainment vs safety is basically her work description, and her home life doesn’t much differ. Lindsay goes, per usual, with erring on the side of her id. She keeps her hand on Michael’s dick, but floats forward to get her mouth on Jack’s. 

It’s sensual, making out with a man with a beard. Baby smooth Michael is still sexy to her, but there’s just something about getting scraped hot that Lindsay is into. What’s even better is Jack pushing aside her swimsuit and sliding one of his thick fingers inside her. Lindsay wants to whimper, but she can’t. She can only shudder around the sudden perfect sensation and attempt to keep rhythm for Michael. 

Over the course of the next few minutes, Jack does his best to drive her mad. A lot of their public sex is this, or even over the clothes frottage. They’ve all gotten very good at knowing exactly what to flick, what to squeeze, what to rub. Lindsay revels in Michael watching for the minutest of reactions, and imagines she’s in front of an audience of hundreds. They could grade her, like figure skating, except instead of completing a triple salchow, her claim to fame is not screeching when Jack’s three fingers press into her g spot. Judging by the smirk on Michael’s face, she’s not as subtle as she thinks. A seven point five from the Russian, er, New Jerseyian judge.

Lindsay trembles as the people in the pool hoist themselves out and begin gathering their things and Jack’s fingers still inside of her. Smart, maybe, to pause any reactions as they walk by, but totally excruciating. She’s so fucking close. She needs just a little more. She hears the clip of flip flops fade as they get further and further down the hall, and then disappear past the corner. Finally she’s alone with her two boyfriends. 

“I want. To come.” Lindsay can speak now, as long as the pool isn’t too echoey. 

“So come,” Michael replies, ever less the gentleman than Jack.

Michael’s tone works, hits her in the same way Jack’s fingers do. Lindsay reaches beyond Jack to put her palms on the edge of the sunken hot tub. She boosts herself over Jack’s head, losing his fingers in the process. Regretful, but necessary. She stops when her knees are on the white subway tile. Lindsay’s not getting out of the tub with intent to leave, of course. The next thing she hears is a bunch of splashing. Thank fuck they know her well enough to follow her thought process. 

The tiny v of Lindsay’s swimsuit gets pushed to the side again, and this time a cock is breaching her. She doesn’t need to look back to know it’s Michael’s. Blessed life she lives, having enough sex to judge her boyfriends by dick alone. Michael’s standing on the seat of the hot tub, cock at the right height to fill Lindsay like she needs. And filled she is. Michael’s cock is bigger than Jack’s fingers, albeit not by much. Lindsay’s in the perfect position to appreciate the girth, with her knees against her tits and face almost to the tile, cunt displayed to them. 

There’s a thrill in knowing at any moment they could be caught. Lindsay can’t even say for certain that if they were caught she’d immediately stop. It would depend on who walked in. If it was Matt Bomer Type or Suburban Goddess Mom Lindsay can perfectly invision adjusting to offer them a better angle.

Out of the water, Lindsay is starting to goosebump. The cold air is a slap on once heated skin. Her nipples stiffen and Lindsay manages to rub them, in a truly impressive feat of drunken contortion. Worth the effort, too. Not everyone’s got sensitivity there, Jack couldn’t care less, but Lindsay loves having her tits played with.

Suddenly they’re switching position. Michael pulls her torso up. Once she’s vertical he weaves his hand into her hair. Michael thrusts and Lindsay undulates and Michael’s hand never moves, just starts tugging her scalp as her head gets further away from his tangled fingers. Hair pulling shouldn’t be as delicious as it is. She should have qualms about getting hurt by loved ones, she might be a bad feminist letting a guy do this to her. But she somehow just can’t care in the face of the visceral feeling of hair tugging. To keep the sensation going, Lindsay keeps her hands braced on the tile. Each thrust in Lindsay cants forward a little. It really maximizes the pull.

When Michael gets close Lindsay knows immediately. He’s pulling her by her hair back down onto his dick, legs braced in the water. Michael’s able to take more weight and hold her in a chair like position. The bubbling hot water hits her hard nipples and she lets out a moan.

Lindsay enjoys the pulse of Michael’s cock as it spills into her. It’s filling her insides with liquid as hot as the liquid caressing her skin. She’s got a NuvaRing and even if it did somehow fail a family with these two wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

“You wanna fuck too, Jack?” If her voice is slightly slurred, well, they’ve both heard worse.

“D’rather get you off,” he replies. Lindsay doesn’t think it’s meant as a slight to Michael, even if the competitive little fuck is likely to take it that way. Jack’s just a giving dude. You’d have to be, to let a virtual stranger stay in your house on a prolonged basis.

Lucky for everyone, Michael decides to be chill. He lets Jack take her away, position her back over the side of the hot tub, tits pressing against the tile. For a brief second Lindsay’s wondering if damp induced athlete’s foot can happen in cleavage too, and then Jack’s distracting her with a middle and ring finger up her cunt and his index rubbing against her asshole. Lindsay can feel Michael’s come move around in her as Jack vigorously pumps his fingers, can feel some of it ooze down and slide down her labia towards her clit. She must be a sight to fuckin’ behold. 

It’s hard not to scream when Jack finally gets her to orgasm. Her desperate fingers grab for a towel, and Lindsay ends up pressing the starchy white cloth against her face to muffle any sound the acoustics of this room might try to amplify. It’s her travelling through the hotel towel, and it’s currently soaking up all the water pooled on the tile, so that’ll suck for the long elevator ride. But that’s a later problem. Her current problem is trying not to black out as Jack continues ramming her g-spot, triggering a wild spray of female ejaculate, like a thumb over an uncorked champagne bottle. This doesn’t happen every time, maybe once in five or ten, but when it does Lindsay loses all control of herself.

 

Once she’s limp on the tile, legs hanging heavily into the hot tub as her cunt quivers with aftershock, Jack finally decides to get his own goodness. Lindsay would applaud him, if she could move a single inch of her body. In reality, she can’t even muster the strength to push the hotel towel away and watch what’s happening. She doesn’t know if Jack’s just jerking himself, if Michael’s lending a hand on shaft or balls or ass, or even if Michael’s got the head of his cock in his mouth. All she knows is after a minute, Jack is coming. The good thing is Lycra isn’t absorbent at all. Almost all the spunk that shoots onto Lindsay’s back will just wash right off with the jet current.

Maybe on an episode of Always Open she’ll talk about this, her great hot tub sexcapade. Veil it with undeclared names and past tense. For now though, there’s no one to brag to. For now Lindsay will have to make do with the high fives she’ll demand from both of them before they all stagger back to the room and prep to go back home.


End file.
